


I Hate It When You Message Me

by LoveDrift



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, M/M, Need to be loved, Past Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, beginning of relationship, gratuitous use of the word kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3254231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveDrift/pseuds/LoveDrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My very dear friend Nami and I had a long, in-depth conversation about Drift, Rodimus, and just what exactly was in that message from Rodimus to Drift in issue 9 of MTMTE. This discussion prompted bunnies to breed and this is the result.<br/>It takes place immediately after Drift leaves Swerve's. I suck at summary.</p><p>Edit: The term I used, "dear friend", proved to be false. Unfortunately Nami betrayed me. This betrayal hurt me deeply. Nami is no Gasket. My Gasket died along the ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags. I didn't go too graphic, though my definition may differ from yours. I also may have over tagged (is that such a thing?) it, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. This could be triggery for some, so you may want to avoid. Drift goes into explicit detail regarding his past here, so there will be mentions of drug use and rape. 
> 
> I also need to state that writing this...stuff, for lack of a better word, is cathartic for me. I don't write it because I'm into it or think it's 'hot'. I feel these are serious issues and I want Drift to be loved regardless of them and I want him comforted. Repeatedly. 
> 
> I do not like Rodimus. I catch hell a lot because of how I portray him, but in my defense, that's how I see him. He blatantly takes advantage of Drift. He manipulates him. He uses him. And he doesn't see anything wrong with it. So if you are a Rodimus fan, I apologize if I piss you off. I also do not ship them. Like, at all. I don't get it. I don't like it, but hey, that's me. We all ship who we want and I'm totally fine if you ship them. :) Okay... So here goes... 
> 
> I lied. One more thing. I have been working on this for a couple weeks now... This is my most cherished work at the moment and it is nowhere near done. For some reason I feel closely connected with this piece. 
> 
> Don't hate me.

Drift was not exactly enthused when Rewind and Chromedome asked him to come to Swerve's and meet up with everyone. He actually almost declined. 

 

That is until he found out Ratchet would be there. 

 

Then Drift was excited. He even polished his plating to brilliant sheen in the hopes that Ratchet would take notice. What he hadn't expected was the trip down memory lane, which he conveniently glossed over, which, as it happened wasn't that bad of thing. It brought him and Ratchet closer. Ratchet even put his arms around Drift!! Well, okay, Ratchet was trying to get him to stop talking, but STILL. Annnnnnnd... Drift found out that Ratchet thinks about that time a lot as well. All of which meant that Drift was very content to sit next to Ratchet for the rest of the evening. It was was happened after that wasn't expected. 

 

Though, he really should have expected it by now. 

 

Rodimus, as usual, can't leave Drift alone for even the most brief of moments. The captain messages him constantly, regardless of the time, regardless of Drift's whereabouts, and Primus FORBID Drift doesn't answer his captain INSTANTANEOUSLY! 

 

That's when the insults start coming:

 

Dirty little syphonist. 

 

My little buymech. 

 

Whore. 

 

The longer Drift ignores Rodimus, the worse it gets. 

 

So, as 'asked', Drift went to the oil reservoir. 

 

And then to his captain's hab suite.

 

And now, Drift finds himself storming out of Rodimus' quarters and heading to the washracks as quickly as possible with a dented finial and a bruised throat. He wipes at his mouth, humiliation, shame, and rage burning in his spark. 

 

Respond right away. 

 

Frag you. 

 

By the time Drift enters the washracks his intakes are heaving and he's too damn near to tears. He feels sick. And dirty. Feelings he really thought that this time, he could leave behind him. 

 

Drift carefully removes his-Wing's-Great Sword and places it reverently on a nearby bench. 

 

_Oh, Wing... I miss you so much...I need you so badly..._

 

The swordsmech's hands tremble as he unclips his side scabbards and lays them next to the Great Sword.

 

So filthy. 

 

Drift steps into the stall and cranks the water/solvent mix to hot, relishing in the burn on his face. His engine sputters and revs in distress as he fights back a sob. The speedster presses his forehelm to the stall wall and screams. Energon drips down the back of his throat and pools in his mouth. It hurts. It all hurts. Rodimus just doesn't understand how badly it hurts Drift when he says those things. How can he not understand? Why can't Rodimus see that it would hurt him? He hated that part of his life! Rodimus was supposed to be his friend... Drift looks over at the Great Sword and whimpers. 

 

Wing. 

 

What Drift wouldn't give to curl in the jets lap, be held and comforted by someone who cares. To hear Wing's beautiful, melodic voice...stare into those golden optics glittering like the sun. Wing would tell Drift it'd be okay...that he was safe. He'd nuzzle Drift and hum some song... tell Drift how beautiful and wonderful he was. He'd make Drift feel special and loved. Something he hasn't had in a very, very long time. 

 

Drift chokes out a half sob, half scream filled with such agony and rage. 

 

He repeatedly slams his fist into the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

Ratchet was in the middle of enjoying a very nice feeling hot shower when he hears the scream. His medical coding slams into him and in less than a second he's out and running toward the source of the scream. What he sees stops the medic in his tracks. 

 

Drift. 

 

Ratchet's intakes catch. Drift is leaking. Drift is shaking. Drift is beating his fist into the wall. Drift is... 

 

_Crying._

 

And Ratchet's spark just shatters. "Kid...?" 

 

Drift stiffens when he hears Ratchet. 

 

Just GREAT! The speedster smacks his forehelm against the wall. Oh why why why why WHY did Ratchet have to be in here?! "G-Go away..." Drift's voice is rough and full of static as he answers the medic. Could he sound anymore pathetic?! 

 

"Kid, you know that ain't happening," Something tells Ratchet he needs to be very careful with how he handles this situation. 

 

"'Course not..." 

 

"Drift..." Ratchet cautiously steps closer and reaches out to the swordsmech...and instantly regrets it. 

 

Drift snarls and flinches, jumping back away from Ratchet. "Don't touch me!!" 

 

Ratchet frowns and freezes, his spark aching for Drift. He had no idea the speedster was so fragile. All Ratchet wants to do is hold Drift in arms. "Okay, kid. I won't touch you. I'm just gonna stand right here," 

 

Nice going, Drift. Snap at the one mech left in this world who cares and actually WON'T hurt you. "O-Okay. Just...I... just...I........ s-sorry..."

 

"Nothing to apologize for, kid. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come into your personal space like that. I heard you scream and I was worried. I want to help ya, kid,"

 

Drift hangs his helm and stares at the floor, "Can't help me," 

 

"I can. If you let me,"

 

Drift trembles, his intakes hiccuping as his engine idles increases. He tries to collect his thoughts, an impossible task given his present state. Things can't much worse, right? If he ever had a chance in Pit of being with Ratchet, it's long gone now. Ratch wants to help? He has no idea. 

 

_I'm beyond help._

 

Ratchet waits patiently, watching Drift struggle to form the words to express himself. Something inside Ratchet breaks at the spark breaking whimpers coming from Drift that the swordsmech isn't even aware he's making

 

"He told me, his whore, that I deserved to be punished because I didn't get back to him INSTANTANEOUSLY and I was late in getting to him. He told me, his whore, that I had to help him reduce his s-stress and what better way than to suck his spike. I do have such a pretty mouth after all," Drift sneers at the floor, the words all of a sudden flying from his vocalizer. 

 

Ratchet can't help the gasp of horror he makes at Drift's words. Drift had to survive. Ratchet knew the things Drift had to do to survive, and Ratchet damn well doesn't hold it against Drift either! Anger boils up in his lines at whoever had the audacity to say such horrible things to Drift. Fierce protectiveness surges within the medics spark. "Who the slag said that to you?" 

 

Drift ignores Ratchet and continues to stare at the floor as he speaks, only distantly hearing Ratchet, some part of the speedster taking note of the protectiveness in the ambulance' field. 

 

"And oh! Let's not forget that he threatens me with revoking the Reintegration Act and having me arrested-ARRESTED-if I don't comply. I wasn't joking when I said that! " Drift's intakes heave,his voice a deep growl. He's so full of rage and pain and shame he's going to explode. 

 

Ratchet has his answer. 

 

_Rodimus._

 

Ratchet is good and mad now! 

 

The words are starting to come easier now, and yet Drift still can't bring himself to meet the medics optics.

 

He's so ashamed. 

 

So disgusting. 

 

So worthless. 

 

"He yanked on my finials-hard- and forced me to my knees. He...caressed," Drift shudders in revulsion at the memory, "....my cheek and told me he n-needed me," Drift spits energon onto the floor, watching as it mixes with the energon steadily dripping from his smashed fist.  
"Only I could help him, he says. He squeezed my finial h-h-hard...he dented it," Speaking of said finial, Drift is reminded of how badly it hurts. It hurts so slagging bad it's throbbing. 

 

"And then outcame his spike and I did what I do b-best ,"  
Drift finally looks up at Ratchet, meeting the medics optics, the hurt bitingly raw on Drift's face, and in his field. 

 

The swordsmech spits out his next sentence with all the loathing and disgust he feels about himself, "I SUCKED HIS SPIKE!! YUP! That's right. THE WHORE SUCKED THE CAPTAINS SPIKE!! " Drift falters at the look (pity?) on Ratchet's face and hangs his helm, returning his gaze to the floor, his lower lip quivering, his frame trembling. 

 

"Didn't expect him to frag my mouth so hard though," Drift rubs his neck with his good hand, the talking hurting his throat. Ugh... he can feel the energon running down the back of his throat too. He feels like coughing and tries to fight it, losing this battle too. Whatever. Drift coughs up quite a bit of energon and spits it down the drain. He's weak. When did he last fuel? Frag....he can't even remember... Drift sways a bit and puts his hand and forearm on his knees. He leans forward a bit and coughs, then purges his tanks. And it burns! His throat is on fire! 

 

Huh. Look at that. 

 

Energon. Just when he thought it couldn't get worse. How embarrassing. He almost laughs. Almost. Drift winces in pain. 

 

A great deal of pain. 

 

Ratchet stands frozen in place, his spark shattering as he listens to Drift. The medic is speechless. And angry. 

 

Damn fucking angry.

 

Ratchet fights the urge to go over to Drift and comfort the swordsmech as he coughs and purges his tanks. 

 

Drift regains his composure somewhat, spitting the last bit of energon from his mouth. He snickers and looks at his crushed hand. Great idea, idiot. Punch the wall. Genius. He stands up and stares at his energon swirling round and draining. "Should just go, Ratch,"

 

" I'm not going anywhere, kid," Ratchet contains the rage in his voice, not wanting Drift to think that Ratchet is angry with him. 

 

Drift shakes, his voice raspy and wavering, his Dead End accent slipping out as he speaks. "I'm worthless ya know. I knew it that day you saved my life. I knew it when you turned to talk to Orion Pax. It was at that moment that I realized how very little I meant to anyone. How very much my existence didn't matter. I was just another piece of gutter trash. I waited around for you. But the more I waited the more I thought that maybe you didn't want to come back because I was here. I thought that you and Orion Pax were together.... I.... Well... I wasn't wanted anyway and my attempt to off myself earlier was a spectacular failure, so I went and picked up a couple customers, got beaten pretty bad in the process, then went out and got high as Pit with the shanix I 'earned'. I hated myself. I hate myself...be..because I had to suck spike and take spike to fuel. So I wouldn't starve. And I loathed it. So I boosted. A lot. I shot syk into my lines and/or snorted the charged particles up my nose or jammed boosters anywhere in my frame I could. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered," Tears stream down Drift's face mixing with the water and solvent from the shower. 

 

"Anything was better than the miserable excuse for an existence I was in. Do you know what it's like to be on hands and knees getting 'faced in your mouth and valve-HARD AS PIT-at the same time? Getting told you're a hot little buymech or a dirty little slut, good for nothing other than a hole to stick their spikes in? Do ya know what it's like having transfluid shot in your face or having five other mechs watching and laughing at your degradation as they jerk themselves to overload all over you? Some of them like to beat you. Badly. Do you know what that's like? To get beaten for shanix? I once had a mech stab my spike because he had issues, and that's what he liked. Then he fragged me with a rusty, barbed piece of pipe. And wouldn't ya know he left me there leaking and sobbing in misery without payment. It's always the same. It's always humiliating and degrading. It's rape, plain and fragging simple because I NEVER wanted it. Any of it. You know damn well what my spike and valve looked like. I hated it. I hated myself even more. How could I not?! I wanted to die. There was no way out. But I couldn't very well open with that when Rewind asked his stupid slagging questions now could I? Better to say some slagging spiritual rustwash and make it seem okay. What makes this all so much worse is that I stupidly told Rodimus I was a buymech...told him about my addiction! And ya know how reacted, Ratchet? He grinned. His optics lit up. He said I must be a 'god' in the berth. He fragging loves the fact that I was a buymech! And every fragging Primus damned time he messages me, he calls me a whore! Or a dirty little leaker! Do you know how bad that hurts me?!"  
Drift's voice is cracking bad now. "Ya know what the best part is? I don't even like interfacing! I hate it! All interfacing is is agony!" Drift is practically manic at this point. "Pit! I don't even self...s-self service!" 

 

Ratchet listens, tears sliding down his cheeks. He knew how bad Drift had it, but to hear it in such detail. By the Matrix this poor....."Kid..." Oh if only Ratchet had known... Drift even said something tonight! He was crying out for help and once again, Ratchet failed him. How much is the kid supposed to take? He doesn't even self service? Drift has never interfaced without pain? It's so wrong. All of it is so wrong. And Rodimus! How could he? The glitch probably doesn't even realize... Oh! That was...tonight...Drift was forced. There was no part of Drift that wanted that...Rodimus would maintain he consented...that's a load of scrap. Ratchet sure as shit doesn't believe in dubious consent. It's either consensual or its rape. Just because a frame responds doesn't mean the spark and the processor do. "Drift... I..." 

 

Drift's shivering and shaking is getting worse and it's only due in part to the water/solvent mix turning ice cold. He hurts so badly. He wants a warm berth and...and, yes, he wants Ratchet to hold him. Just like Wing used to. The speedster shudders, his spark laid bare before the mech he loves, who will now definitely not want anything to do with him. He's so pathetic. "Don't want your p-pity, Ratch," 

 

"Damn it, Drift, it's not pity!" Ratchet is furious! He winces at his reaction and the flinch it drew from Drift. Damn it! The medic is so not mad at Drift. If anything he... He's gonna have a nice long chat with the captain, that's what, and ignore the flutter in his spark. but first, he has higher priorities. Like his shivering little speedster. 

 

"Wh-whatev-"Drift starts coughing again. Oh it hurts.... He drops to his hands and knees, coughing uncontrollably, wincing as his broken hand touches the floor and then slips, causing his elbow joint to smack the floor hard. Drift cries out in pain, almost choking on his own energon, which now runs down his chin and out his nose as he coughs it up. 

 

That's it! Caution be damned! Ratchet shuts off the water and hurriedly grabs a towel, rushing over to kneel beside Drift. The medic wraps the towel around Drift's shoulders and pulls the shaking speedster into his arms. "Kid.......kid, I'm so sorry. I never should have left you back then...I should have tried harder to find you...to show you how very much I cared about you, still care, and I should have paid attention to you tonight and stopped you from leaving Swerve's..."

 

Drift fights to stop coughing and looks up at Ratchet, completely stunned as he's pulled into Ratchet's arms. Ratch is holding me? Apologizing? CRYING? He's still...here? He...he...Ratchet...said he should have paid attention! He _cares_ Drift's spark fills with hope and leaps into his throat. He let's out a confused little mewl and whimper. 

 

Ratchet smiles reassuringly down at Drift and gently wipes away the speedster tears, and energon from his face. "You're safe, kid," Ratchet's optics trail up to Drift's dented finial, taking note of the leaking, and then back to his optics. "You're safe," 

 

Drift leans into Ratchet's touch. He is safe. Ratchet has him. Ratchet stayed. Ratchet is here. Drift hears himself whimper and then wail in abject misery. He presses his face into Ratchet's chest just under his chin and finally sobs, letting go just like he did with Wing. He's safe. He's finally safe. Please don't let go, Ratch. 

 

"I got ya, kid. It's gonna be okay. It's all gonna be okay, I promise," Ratchet holds Drift tight and arranges himself so he can sit on his aft with his speedster in his lap comfortably. Ratchet rests his cheek on Drift's helm and very gently rubs his back. "That's it, kid, let it out . I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I'll protect you. Ratchet's here. You're safe. No one can hurt you here," 

_I'll kill 'em if they try._


	3. Chapter 3

Drift clings to Ratchet, his broken sobs a spark breaking mix of gasping hiccups, choking whimpers and high pitched keens. He hurts. It's deep and it's brutal and it's tearing him apart. Drift is so tired of being all alone. He clings tighter to Ratchet. Ratchet is his life line. Drift won't let him go. He's never gonna let go. Ratchet is so nice and so warm. And caring. Intelligent. Gorgeous. And strong. 

 

And safe. 

 

And Drift is cold. 

Really cold. He shivers terribly in Ratchet's arms, his plating clanking noisily against Ratchet's. Maybe Ratchet will take him somewhere safe and warm and keep holding him? But how he can ask? What is he gonna say? 

 

_Hey, Ratch, can you scoop me up and carry me to the safety and solace of your hab suite? Can I hide?_

 

He can just picture it: The good doctor carrying his battered frame...mechs will see him vulnerable...helpless.

 

No. 

 

But... 

 

No. Drift couldn't take it if anyone were to see him like this. It's bad enough Ratchet sees him like this.

 

But...he IS really cold. Really, really cold. And he hurts. A lot. His motor revs hard and sputters, his intakes hitching, shivering. He really doesn't feel good. He tries to press closer to Ratchet, as if he is trying to get under his plating. Mmm... Ratch is sooooo warm. Sooooo nice and warm. 

 

Ratchet feels how cold Drift is and frowns. Not good. He opens his vents and fluffs his plating, expelling warm air out and onto Drift. Poor kid is freezing. He had no idea Drift gets this cold. Granted most of it is due to trauma, but still... Speedster frames are lightweight and designed for maximum performance. Their systems designed to expel heat rapidly, keeping the frame cool for better performance, so it's quite typical for a speedster at rest, in idle, recharging, etc, for said speedster to be cold. In Drift’s case... Of course! In Drift’s case, centuries of fuel deprivation would greatly effect his ability to regulate and maintain his internal temperature. His self repair is nonexistent because of this as well. He needs to get the kid warm and start his repairs, and he sure as slag does not want to do it here. Now, how to get Drift to the medibay... Ratchet rubs Drift's back as he thinks. We could walk...but Drift can barely stand. He strokes the little winglets that hold Drift's Great Sword. Drift needs to fuel. Think, Ratchet, think. He pulls Drift closer when the swordsmech suddenly presses tight to him. Drift's engine hiccups and sputters, the sputter prompting the medic into action. 

 

"Kid?" Why the frag is Ratchet's voice so hoarse? That can't be good... Ratchet clears his intakes and tries again. "Drift, I need to get you fueled and warm, and I need to start your repairs. To do that, I need to take you back to the medibay," Ratchet feels Drift tense. No medibay. Okay... With the medibay out of the question...He wonders... "Would my hab suite be better? I have everything I need there to repair you and it will just be the two of us. I promise," Drift relaxes a bit and nods, the kid's face still buried in his chest glass. Ratchet's room it is. "Okay, kid. That's good. That's real good. I'm proud of you, Drift. Up we get." Ratchet gets a better grip on Drift and stands up, cradling the swordsmech to his chest, arranging the towel so that Drift's shoulders and chest are covered. 

Drift leans heavily into Ratchet as Ratchet cradles him. He whispers, and even that hurts like slag, "... m'swords ," 

"Oh! Oh yes... Okay. Uh...you wanna hold 'em, or should I magnetize them to my frame?"

 

Nodding. "...I...." Drift coughs up some energon and tries again. ".... G-Great...." Another cough and a groan. 

 

Ratchet frowns, his spark tightening when Drift coughs up energon. "You want to hold the big one," 

 

Weak nod. 

 

Ratchet smiles and gently sets Drift down on the bench by his swords. He grabs Drift's hip scabbards complete with swords, and magnetizes them to his back. He then grabs the Great Sword very carefully, not quite sure what it means to Drift, but knowing enough to respect it and handle with care as he hands it to Drift. He adjusts the towel better and carefully picks Drift back up. 

 

Drift takes his Swords, cradling Wing's Great Sword to his chest, kissing the crystal in the center. "T-Thank.........thank you, Ratch," Ratchet cares enough to be careful with his-Wing's- sword. That's...that's something...right? Maybe he isn't disgusted? 

 

"You're welcome, kid," Ratchet cautiously steps out into the hall and checks for other mechs. "Uh...maybe you could tell me about your sword sometime? I'd like to hear about it," Satisfied, Ratchet continues onward to his hab suite. "If you want, that is." Hopefully this will help Drift to open up a bit, and just maybe, Drift will let him help. The kid so desperately needs a friend. 

_And how about you, Ratchet? You need a friend too._

 

Drift is...shocked. No one has ever cared enough to ask about his sword. And, well, if he's honest with himself, he really does need to talk about Wing, and it'd be way better than talking about what...well...the speech Drift gave just a few minutes ago, though he's fairly certain Ratchet will want to talk about that too. "Y-Yeah........ okay," Drift starts to cough and groans in pain, burying his face in Ratchet's chest again, his optics closing tight. Primus he hurts! His throat is killing him and his finial... Primus damn it his finial hurts! They're so sensitive to begin with, all those slagging sensors and nodes and wire clusters inside, and then to be injured! Damn it, Rodimus! Aw who's he kidding? It's his own fault. Always is. He intakes sharply and grits his energon coated denta. He can't stop shivering. Why can't he stop shivering? His pain is getting worse. Or...or is his handle on it slipping? He really feels ill. Like purge his tanks ill. He goes completely limp, and hears himself whimper, but his voice....what the slag? He sounds so far away...so...thick... 

 

Slag. Drift's going into shock. "Hang on, kid. Almost there," Ratchet picks up the pace and hurries back to his hab suite, making a quick dash through the medibay. He gives a quick nod to a startled First Aid, whose visor brightens in a smile when his apprentice sees just who Ratchet has in his arms. He steps into his room, the door gliding closed behind him.

 

"Still with me, kid?"

 

"Mmm hmm," Drift gives a tired nod. 

 

"Good. I'm going to fix you up now, okay?" Ratchet gently sets Drift on his berth, something he'd only ever done in dreams that he barely admits to himself, and takes the towel away before carefully laying Drift all the way down. He demagnetizes Drift's swords and then carefully takes the Great Sword, laying the trio on his semi cluttered desk. 

 

"C-Cold, R-Ratch..." Drift shivers, his denta chattering together. He's too foggy...too weak...and hungry. How did he get so hungry? Berth is comfy though...

 

"I know, kiddo. We're gonna get you warmed up right now. First though I'm going to turn you on your side, okay. That way I can repair your finial,"

 

"M'kay..."

 

Ratchet smiles and gently turns Drift onto his left side, facing the wall. Once he has Drift in position he grabs the blanket on the end of the berth and pulls it up and over the trembling swordsmech, tucking it in around him with loving care. He carefully takes Drift's injured right hand and wraps it in the towel, placing it up on the pillow next to Drift. "How's that, kid?" 

 

"...s'nice...." And it is...Drift could stay just like this forever. Right here. In Ratchet's room. In his berth. It's like a dream come true. Except for the pain. He amends his dream to make it sans pain. He really doesn't like hurting. 

 

"Good," Ratchet smiles and gently squeezes Drift's arm. "You need to fuel, so I'm going to hook you up to a line, alright?" 

 

"Mmm k-kay,"

 

"Thank you, Drift," He must really be miserable if he's cooperating so easily. Hmm. Ratchet pulls down a intraline pole and hooks an energon bag to it, running the line down to Drift. He pulls back the blanket just enough to access the medical port in Drift's arm and hooks up him up to the feed, covering the swordsmech back up once he's connected. Ratchet collects the supplies he needs for the repairs, sets them on a mobile tray, and sits on the berth beside Drift, using his pede to bring the tray closer. "Ready?" 

 

"Mmm hmm," 

 

"Very good," Ratchet begins repairing Drift's damaged finial. Poor kid, it had to have been killing him with the way it was bent, metal pinching energon lines, sensory wires and nodes crushed. The pain must be unbelievable. Ratchet's spark fills with fury. How dare Rodimus do this to his Drift! Of all mechanisms! Somehow seeing Drift hurt just does something to Ratchet. It angers him. It upsets him. It _hurts_ him. His spark physically aches, screaming at him to love/protect/save/care/fix/love/cherish this broken mech before him. Hearing all the pain Drift has been carrying around just tore Ratchet up inside. It's so unfair. How much is Drift supposed to take? How could mechs be so cruel? All Drift wanted was to be safe. And loved, apparently. And...by the vaulted Heights of... Drift waited around for him? For this grumpy old medic? Drift needs to know how...how he didn't suffer needlessly. That his life matters. That he matters. 

 

And Drift does matter. 

 

Very much so to Ratchet. 

 

Now he will just need to convince Drift of that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this chapter to Miss Anonymous and White Pilot. I know you both are here for me... It's just taking me more time than I thought to work through this. I am not in a good place. I love you both and your support.... Well. I'll just leave it at that. 
> 
>  
> 
> Now, here's a note for all you haters:
> 
> If anyone has a problem with my work, keep your hateful, rude, cruel comments to yourself. Telling me you wish to "go back in time and kill me so I don't write anything" is just pathetic and hurtful and done with only one goal in mind. I do not appreciate that. If you don't like my work, fine, but keep your hate to yourself.
> 
> Intelligent, polite comments are always welcome.

Drift shifts a little, curling his knees up to his chest, feeling a little better from the energon. "Hey, Ratch?"

 

"Yeah, kid?"

 

"Um...y-you...you don't find me...disgusting? Or weak?" Drift frowns at the wall, tears welling up in optics. Primus he hates this! He absolutely loathes being weak and feeling helpless. 

 

Ratchet frowns, his spark breaking. Disgusting? Weak? There is no way in Pit Ratchet could ever think that about Drift."No, Drift, I don't find you disgusting. And I certainly don't think you're weak. Not in the slightest. You are the strongest mech I ever known," 

 

Ratchet feels his cheeks heat up as he adds, "I find you beautiful. Inside and out," Ratchet sets the sensor packed finial back in its proper place, earning him a relieved sigh from Drift. He carefully welds the crack closed and then gently wraps a soft mesh bandage around the finial to protect the fresh welds, giving him time to organize his next words. Words he is certain the swordsmech needs to hear. Words Drift probably never heard. 

 

"I think...no, I KNOW that you have had a hell of a time. I know that those who were supposed to nurture you, care for you, protect you have failed you horrendously. I know that what happened tonight was NOT your fault. I know that your past was not your fault either. I know you did what you had to in order to survive, and I am so very, very glad that you did survive and that you are now here, with me. You are strong. So much stronger than you think. So much stronger than you give yourself credit for," Ratchet watches Drift's vents hitch and his frame tremble, and, by the Matrix if it doesn't just make Ratchet want to pull Drift into his arms and hold him! 

 

"Drift, the way you've been treated...." Ratchet is practically growling now he's so angry, "....the way you are currently being treated....it's wrong. It's so damn fragging wrong and it ends now! Right now, right here. Tonight."

 

Drift blinks at the wall, stunned at Ratchet's words, unable to stop the soft sobs that had started the moment Ratchet called him beautiful. Drift has been waiting such a long time to hear anything even remotely resembling kind words directed at him. His time with Wing was so short and so long ago... Could Ratchet really mean it? Did that comment about his past include his time as Deadlock? He bites his lower lip in thought, confused and hopeful in equal measures. Taking a shaky intake, he rolls over to face Ratchet, careful of the energon line, wincing when he lays on his freshly repaired finial. Drift has no idea what to say so he just stares up at the mech he loves with all his spark, Primus knows what expression on his face. 

 

Ratchet smiles softly at the stunned look of astonishment on Drift's face and brushes away Drift's tears with his thumb. "It's the truth, kid. You're not disgusting. You're not weak. You're not the horrible person you think you are," 

 

Drift closes his optics, several tears squeezing through, and whispers, "...b-but..." 

 

"No buts, kid. I've thought a lot about this. So you're just going to have to lay here and listen. Quietly. I know it's hard for you," Ratchet gently teases Drift, grinning when Drift scowls up at him. "That's my cheeky mech," Ratchet grins even brighter when that comment puts a blush on the speedster's face. 

 

"I think back a lot on that day in my clinic, kid," Ratchet turns solemn. "I... I wish I would have been faster in getting back to you that day. I wish I wasn't gone so long. I wish that I had made YOU my priority that day. I knew you were special. I felt drawn to you even then.... I should have stayed with you,"

 

Ratchet looks away in shame.

 

"But I didn't. Pax needed my help. Pax and I were friends.....but...." Ratchet rolls his shoulders in a shrug and looks at Drift, who hasn't taken his optics off Ratchet. "...but you...you needed me so much more," Ratchet reaches out and tenderly rubs Drift's cheek, smiling softly when the swordsmech leans into his hand. 

 

"So, so much more, and... Drift, I am so, so sorry I failed to see that...I am so sorry I failed you. We all failed you. And we keep failing you," Tears slide down the CMO's face. He so very gently caresses his speedster's cheek. "You're so beautiful, Drift. You are such a good, sweet and gentle spark," 

 

Drift starts and opens his mouth, but Ratchet slides his thumb to the speedsters lips to quiet the protest. "No, sweetspark, it's the truth. Even as Deadlock you were still Drift. Who you are has always been this beautiful, caring, good spark," Ratchet thinks for a moment. "The greatest cruelty comes from the most gentle, most kind of souls. I read that somewhere... For you to have been so violent and cruel and angry as you were as Deadlock, you had to have been so completely and utterly hurt. Your past hurt you terribly, kid. I know that, and I think you were still being so hurt while you were with the Decepticons. And you're hurting still. Well, I don't want you hurting anymore. Drift..I... I love you."


End file.
